


belladonna

by mochacreams



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Drama & Romance, Drinking to Cope, Established Relationship, F/M, Hiun City | Castelia City (Pokemon), Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, Isshu-chihou | Unova Region (Pokemon), Post-Game(s), Rare Pairings, Relationship Study, Self-Esteem Issues, Suggestive Themes, Travelogue, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochacreams/pseuds/mochacreams
Summary: gordie and klara take a trip to unova together, free from the spotlight—and maybe neither of them are truly equivalent to the personas they put up while at the gym.klara’s just not used to these unexpected cracks of pressure forming in her façade, but that's what gordie's here for.
Relationships: Kurara | Klara/Makuwa | Gordie
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	belladonna

**Author's Note:**

> yes i will continue writing stuff for a rarepair that like 5 people at most will read or care about. thats just how i roll baby.

_No one can see you here._

(It should be a comforting thought, so why does it feel like a death sentence?)

...One of her spiky, black platform boots scrapes against the concrete as it swings, then the other in a smooth, lazy rhythm.

_Kick, kick._ Back and forth.

She had assumed the loud, rumbling water of the fountain behind her would be able to drown out her thoughts, but no dice. 

_She dwells._

How can she relax, anyway, with herds of people rushing past on the streets, and more noisy cars crammed together in one place than she's ever seen in her life?

A distant city where the gray clouds hang low, full of rainwater and shrouding the tops of the skyline in a misty fog. Where the skyscrapers are so high that they pierce the clouds—imposing, surrounding the perimeter like a wall. Where cargo boats at the docks come and go, blaring their horns, rocking the dark seawater.

In Castelia, they're no one special. Just another two faces mixed in with the crowd. Hardly anyone here even knows Galar exists.

They might as well be wandering, wispy spectres—no destination, no names, no purpose. Invisible.

While she’s certainly a city girl, she isn’t accustomed to _this_ city. Maybe, though, if she had time to find the underground scene, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

It's dreary. Always looks like it's going to storm all afternoon. No grassy fields and sunny parks and liveliness like Wyndon, with people and pokemon bustling about at every hour of the day.

Just buildings, like walls, trapping them in.

She really shouldn't be surprised Gordie had chosen to travel here of all places. He'd explored Unova once before, he'd said, a single pin on the map during two years of endless globetrotting. Was it too much to ask to visit Undella instead, though? He'd complain about the heat the whole time, sure, but at least she'd get the beach—and an excuse to be lewd in a bikini.

Ah, well. Next time she’d force her own will as payback.

She imagines Gordie probably likes it here because of that rare lapse in fame. A big city where no one knows your name, and you can do as you please—no fans or paparazzi bothering you. It must be a relief, and yet she finds herself pooling with anxiety at such prospects. How can he live, without that constant reminder of—

"—You saved us prime seats just like you said, eh?”

Speak of the devil. Klara snaps her head upward, though not in a way that reeks of surprise. A sweet smirk, sparkling blue eyes behind light gray-shaded aviator sunglasses.

"Of course!~ Klara rushed for the front of the fountain before anyone else could nab it!~" She says it so enthusiastically that you'd hardly be able to tell she was feeling peeved and microscopic just seconds ago.

Gordie laughs smoothly, sitting down next to her upon the edge of the stone fountain. It's slightly damp from stray water droplets. 

Then—he brings out his hands that he'd been carefully hiding behind his back, revealing a pair of ice cream cones, each resembling the form of a Vanillite.

Klara clasps her hands together. "Gasp! You managed to get some?! I thought you were at the convenience store this whole time!"

"Surprise." He looks a little too proud of himself. "Last two scoops for today, I was almost afraid I'd blow it big time again." 

Ah, the last attempt, a few days ago; the stand had closed down officially just a few patrons before them, and it'd really made the mood sour for the rest of the evening.

"Aahhh, my boyfriend really is the best!" She's adjusting herself on the fountain edge, kneeling so she can reach his head. And she cups his face with her two hands, saying, "Now, lemme kiss you—"

"—G-Gah, I know, I know." He allows it in spite of the way he seems reluctant or embarrassed, and she plants a nice kiss on his cheek, leaving a trace of light lipstick behind atop the red blush. When she pulls away, Gordie holds a cone out for her—a dollop of swirly and white ice cream, with blue specks of sprinkles interspersed. "Hurry and eat it before it melts, love."

_Casteliacones._ Was it shitty that this was one of the only things she knew about Unova? And only because they had Vanillite in Galar, and the vendors in Circhester and Wyndon frequently tried copying this particular delicacy?

_The real thing is better,_ that’s what Gordie had long claimed, and so here they are, finally. 

Klara takes the treat from him and grins, plopping back down comfortably onto her plump behind again.

Her lips, painted a pale Jigglypuff pink today, form an ‘o’ as she lifts the ice cream up to her face. It’s perfectly formed vanilla, with big cyan sprinkles—so cold that it doesn’t drip at all. Suckling at the top first, she finds it to be thick and creamy, and gives a soft hum, eyes brightening up. 

Klara pulls back, licking her lips clean. “Ohmygosh, this is totally delicious!" Another self-indulgent lick of the dessert, and a smile gives way on her face. "Way better than those imitations! Now I know why you wanted to come back to Castelia!~”

“Bloody hell. You think I only wanted to travel back here for the food?” Which, maybe—not _completely_ unbelievable. That had to be part of it, right? At least for her, she wouldn’t bother visiting somewhere again if all the cooking had been the pits. 

“Kyaaa, I don’t mean it that way!~ But, well…” She seems to consider it, then sticks her tongue out and giggles. “ _You know_.”

“I don’t. Enlighten me.”

Now probably isn’t a good time to mention how he tends to pig out on his days off. "Ne-ver-mind~" Instead, Klara absorbs herself in her cone, eagerly licking up the sides in a way that’s...provocative.

Gordie watches intently, maybe too intently, leaning over his knees. He _bites_ his own ice cream, a testament to his cold tolerance. 

Her tongue swirls, curling around the stiff cream at the sides, tasting almost like a custard. 

Gordie stares while eating his own.

And by the time she's gotten to the cone, Gordie's already finished up, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Klara scoots closer, touching his side with hers, the fountain water lulling her into a trance again.

"— _Shit_." Klara perks up at him curiously, tongue dipped inside of the cone, and sees him glancing at his watch. "Lunch reservations at the hotel, remember?"

"Kya! I totally forgot!" Even if her appetite is a little spoiled, it'd been worth it for the special treat of it all alone. 

"Let's head back, then?"

"Duh! I'm not gonna miss all this fancy free food for anything!"

"Free for you…"

She stands regardless (with a giggle), dusting off her fitted, neon green dress—it ends at her plump thighs, with a black, netted mesh dress thrown over it like a coverup. Fashionable, but—still sort of punk-y. Her usual Dustox bow is absent, which means she can cuddle up to Gordie without poking his neck and chin. 

One of the perks, again, of not having any press here. She can twine her delicate fingers with his, and draw hearts into his chest while they walk. Nuzzle her head into his side.

And there's no camera shutters, no reporters rushing to crowd them, no rabid fans to pester her darling. No tabloids that will appear tomorrow morning with their faces plastered all over the fronts.

She longs for it all.

* * *

The black chaise lounge is pulled up next to the window. 

Nighttime here is still busy and loud. Really, she'd been expecting the lulling quiet to settle in already, where there'd be a few occasional taxis gently whirring by and a softly glowing skyline to accompany them. 

Klara lays full-length, her legs spread long, one crossed slightly over the other, on her side and leaning upon one arm. Cheek cupped in her palm, her eyes drip with a bored sort of ultraviolet venom as she gazes out beyond the hotel walls. 

They'd already fucked from behind in the shower—Gordie's still washing up, because she'd so _rudely_ interrupted him in the middle of his immaculate haircare routine. ~~Three rounds of shampoo and conditioner are a little obnoxious, she thinks, but at least it pays off in how silky smooth his locks always are.~~

Even with the gleam that comes after sex, she still feels out of place in the hotel's pure white robe, like she's some kind of pious virgin (despite the fact that she's naked underneath). Just this color alone doesn't really suit her, does it? With _her_ donning it, it's almost an affront to any kind of innocence that's associated with it.

But it's comfortable, and fluffy—Klara rubs her fingertips over the fabric absentmindedly, stroking her own waist and hips, listening in to the rushing water of the showerhead that makes up the background noise.

Gordie is the one stable constant, like those streams of hot water. For reasons she doesn't fully understand.

She runs her fingers along the cold glass now, ending with her palm splayed atop it. There's a smudge streak left behind, but that's a problem for housekeeping (not like they'd be coming soon, because the 'Do Not Disturb' sign has been perpetually hanging off the knob since they checked in).

The moon is full, but Klara can hardly see the stars shining here. The sky seems almost pitch black, devoid of any dazzling light aside from the skyscrapers and billboards.

Suddenly, the faucet turns off, and she flips around onto her other side, now facing the bathroom door, waiting for him—perhaps too eagerly. And if she tugs one side of her robe loose a little, so one breast spills out, then so what? 

A minute passes where there's nothing, and then the blowdryer starts up. Bugger.

She sits up straighter, grumbling to herself. That man, he...

...When her gaze falls to the bed, Shuckle is sitting there, sinking atop some pillows. Had he been there the entire time? He's retracted into his shell fully, though, napping apparently. Gordie must've let him out before he'd gone into the shower, and she just hadn't noticed—probably too distracted by the way he'd been stripping in the bathroom, the door fully open for her to see.

Klara climbs onto the mattress hesitantly. Does the little guy even like her much? She can vaguely recall some glares from him the last time she'd visited Gordie's flat. Surely it's all in her head. 

Sidling up close to Shuckle atop the black covers, she peeks down at him curiously. Even with a king-sized bed, she's huddled up close to him, on her knees, robe spread around her thighs. 

"Hey, Shuckle-kins~" What's with Gordie and not nicknaming his pokemon, anyway? He could learn a thing or two from her. Shuckle's officially dubbed Shuckle-kins from now on, she decides.

Her knuckles go _tap, tap_ lightly along his red shell, quiet but with the intention to coax him out. Whether he's really asleep or just hiding, she can't be sure.

Pulling her hand back, she waits a few seconds before the shell rustles. It moves back and forth, shaking like an egg ready to hatch. 

"That's the spirit, Shuckle-kins!" As she says it, she claps her hands together, mouth forming a quirky smile. Not like Shuckle can see, but her enthusiasm must be infectious through her voice, too. "I promise I don't bite, honest."

Not all the time, anyway.

Klara jumps back a little when Shuckle's head finally appears, popping out of the biggest shell hole. Then come his legs, one-by-one—and, ever-curious, Klara goes to touch a hind one.

The skin is...squishy. Horribly sticky, too. When she pokes it, the texture is rubbery, and when she pulls her finger away, some of the gooey overcoat leaves a thick residue. 

"Ick—" Somehow, even though they're both Bug-types, he's nothing like how scaly her Scolipede feels, or even her fuzzy Dustox. Shuckle, hearing her comment, turns his head around—and there's the glare she's seen before.

He sucks his appendages back inside.

"No! Shuckle-kins, I didn't mean it!~ I was just surprised!" The ooze had been cold, too, like a dense slime. That normally cute face is staring daggers into her, so naturally she reaches out a finger to pet his head. 

Always, she has to stoke the flames and always insert herself into the situation. 

And Shuckle concedes, his scowl lessening just a little. 

"Teehee…" Is she too happy about it?

Then she's scratching under her chin. After some few moments, Shuckle lets his tentacle limbs out again, and visibly relaxes. Not quite smiling, but definitely not violent looking. It’s an improvement, at least. 

"See? We can get along just fine~"

How do you cuddle with a rock? Klara hunches over and grabs Shuckle by the sides of his thick shell, gripping so her fingers clamp underneath for leverage. 

As if that would help. 

Training has made Klara sort of strong—more so in her arms, anyway. But when she attempts to take him up onto her lap, he...doesn’t even budge. Her cheeks puff up red, and she pulls and pulls. Shuckle looks back at her pitifully. 

What the hell? Gordie carries him all the time, and makes it look so easy, too. 

Here she is, struggling to lift up a little Shuckle. She definitely wouldn’t have seen herself here, doing this, five years ago—her family, either. 

The sound of the blowdryer ceases, and so do her fruitless attempts at holding Shuckle in her arms. 

Gordie, in a matching robe that's a much bigger size, struts out of the bathroom, hair mostly dry and only dripping minimally at the ends. He's such a stickler about that—the blowdryer had been going off loudly for at least five minutes. It's unstyled, falling down in a soft curve around his face, with his cowlick parted at the left side.

"Oh! You're finally done!" Emphasis on the _finally_. "Me and Shuckle-kins were just bonding. We're your two favorites after all, y'know?~"

"'Shuckle...kins'?" He blinks, looking confused more than anything. Talk about walking into a hostile takeover. "Favorites? Don't say that in front of the others." Shuckle won't spill to the rest of his team, but Klara's a 50/50 chance. A grumpy Coalossal during this trip wouldn't be ideal.

He sits himself down next to her on the bed, sinking into the mattress as it squeaks in response. Then he lifts Shuckle up and onto his lap with ease, like usual, but now she has a new appreciation for it. And she watches in awe. 

"Isn't he too heavy, though? And he's like, super hard and uncomfortable?" She pointedly ignores the look Shuckle gives her.

"Nah, I'm used to it by now. I've had Shuckle for forever."

"Oooo, you're so strong… Shuckle-kins isn't as soft or cuddly as you are, though~"

"What's with that nickname all of the sudden?" 

Klara hums but doesn't respond. Instead, she lets her head fall against Gordie's shoulder, reaching to put her hand atop Shuckle's shell. Instead...her palm lands on top of Gordie's, caressing his knuckles. She squeezes, three times.

"Did you enjoy your shower?" she asks at once, stroking his big hand with her thin fingers.

"Not as much as when you were in there."

"Awww!~ What a flatterer~" But then her gaze hardens, and she leans up to find his ear. Brushing her lips against his skin there, and whispering lowly, "But you'll have to try harder to win me over. Even if I _am_ super in love with Gordie-kins~"

Typically, the same nickname used on him makes him groan. "Oh yeah? You're hard to please." 

She slowly falls back onto her thighs, cupping her cheek with her hand and looking up...sensually. Gordie puts his own hand atop hers, and leans down to meet her lips, crashing into them fully—warmly.

Fidgeting incessantly with the ties of her robe, Klara gives in to the kiss, closing her eyes to block out the rest of the outside world's expectations.

* * *

She waits for him to sleep completely, heavily—so drowsy that a little scuffling will just make him grumble before tossing and turning and falling back into a sweet slumber.

Tonight, thankfully, Gordie hadn't managed to drape himself all over her; she'd stayed cuddled as the little spoon, the blanket strewn over the both of them, but then he'd eventually flopped over to the other side of the mattress. 

_It's safe._

Klara, lying awake the entire time, has memorized the patterns of the 1am commercials by now. Although the TV is glowing bright, the volume is still low, but enough to mask any minor noises.

Gordie lets out a loud snore, and every muscle inside her freezes up momentarily. 

_You’re in the clear._

How many times has she told herself these words already? How many times alone since she’s been involved with him?

She scurries. An animal full of shame, but not so ashamed that she can stop her greed.

She balances herself and tip-toes swiftly as if a singular misstep means death. And then, when she passes the threshold of the bedroom door, she prances on the balls of her feets, gracefully like a Liepard ready to pounce upon its prey.

The bottle is shaped in that same familiar way. Crouched down, her thin shorts riding up her ass, Klara clamps onto it as she reaches into the fridge. Cold, with clear liquid, and slightly frosted glass. A label in curly blue typeset that’s all too familiar. 

Half of it is empty already, about. A few odd days straight, they'd gone a little crazy with the drinking games and strip poker, so it's only to be expected. 

She tells herself she won't finish it off. He'll definitely notice when they go to pull it out again for another fun night, and she can't have that.

_Only a little._

She can concede that much. She'll give in, but only a quarter of what's left.

_Just a bit._

...Any thought of conservation dies out as soon as the pungent taste of vodka hits her dried lips, like a mouthful of water in a desert oasis. Hands wrap around the neck of the bottle, coiling almost sensually, and she sucks. _Gulps_. Forces her eyes shut. The bottom of the bottle keeps tilting upward and she wouldn't dare close her mouth.

The more she drinks it down, the thicker it feels. Like a bitter syrup scorching her gums and tongue with a potent aftertaste. 

She doesn't even wince, doesn't have tears sting at the corners of her eyes—she hasn't in a while, not the last ten times, either.

There’s no feeling refreshed, or intoxicated. Not even guilt, or that stinging sensation of embarrassment. Just going through with the motions, for routine's sake. What else does she have, if not that? 

She wonders if Gordie’s picked up on the way she can take shots like it’s nothing, or if maybe he’s too drunk to realize (maybe, she’s just a convincing actress?). Pretending to be a cute little lightweight is far easier than admitting the truth to him, anyway, especially when she can down as much as a man twice (thrice?) her size.

A little dazed but hardly worse for wear, Klara lets out a mewl as the last of the liquid sloshes through her parted lips, and burns the back of her throat, bubbling up finally in her stomach. She looks to the doorway, just in case. 

The buzzing of the TV is eerie now. She gets to her feet, uneasy and fumbling, and wipes at her mouth. Carefully presses the vodka into the palm of her free hand, testing it. 

The bottle is lighter—empty, completely and utterly so.

She'll have to fill it halfway with water at the sink before stuffing it back into the fridge.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/togeklssu) 😗


End file.
